


Thirty More Seconds

by orphan_account



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sort of hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the immediate after-math of dropping the Sector 7 plate, Reno is missing, and Rude looks for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty More Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own or in any way profit from the characters and world of FF 7. I believe Square Enix does. I just love them a lot. Thanks for sharing them with me!
> 
> Anyone kind enough to read, if you feel like, I would love feedback. And thanks so much for your time, hope this brings you some enjoyment :)

When the phone rings with his partners number, Rude is extremely annoyed.

  
“Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be at the checkpoint 3 minutes ago. You know how delicate this time table is!” There's a beat of silence on the other end. Reno laughs and sends a cold wave of trepidation down Rude's spine.

  
“I know the time table, yo. Don't get your panties in a bunch.” He laughs again, then gasps, and curses, like the laughing hurts. “Look Rude. It's been fun man.”

  
“Reno where the hell are you?”

  
“Hey, hey! You know what, when they give you a new partner you should tell them about me! It's guaranteed to get you laid. Y'know...if you want to, yo.”

  
“I'm not getting a new partner. Stop fucking around and get your ass over here.”

  
“No can do partner. Those AVALANCHE bastards fucked me up. Can't move no more.”

  
“You're still on the plate!?” Reno laughs again, and again the laughing breaks out into painful gasps.

  
“Sorry. Looks like it, yo.”

  
“Then don't move. I'm coming to get you.” Rude is already striding down the hall, about to snap the PHS shut when the voice comes through again, this time loud, and panicky.

  
“No! Rude please don't hang up, yo! There's not more than 30 seconds left, please just stay with me.” And Rude knows that he's right, that it's futile. And he knows that right now Reno needs him to let go, and joke morbidly, and maybe act pissed off. But he can't. He has to do something. So instead of 'Well if you don't hurry up Tseng is taking off without you', or 'and that would be the only time a story about you's made me look good', or even 'but I love you, you stupid selfish bastard', he says:

  
“Listen, you're going to be fine. You still have the sedatives from the last job. Tranq yourself. Now. Relaxed muscles take less impact damage. They don't break the bones.”

  
“Rude...”

  
“There's a whole SOLDIER platoon ready to sweep in with clean up and disaster relief.”

  
“Partner?”

  
“They'll find you. If they don't find you Tseng and I will find you.”

  
“Rude.”  
“I swear you unkillable little shit if you-”

  
“Rude!”A huge crash rumbles through the phone and into Rude's skull. He can't blink the sting from his eyes. Then there's a harsh clattering sound, the phone skittering over concrete. Then nothing.

  
***

  
His ears are ringing and his vision sparking from the detonation as the floor opens into a jagged, yawning chasm of wire and rebar and he is sliding down, scrabbling uselessly at the disintegrating surface. He manages to free a syringe from his field kit before it falls into the darkness, and jams the needle into his thigh just as he slips over the edge himself. In an instant the drug is tearing through his blood stream, adding an alien, light-headed euphoria to his panic. In a way, he decides, he is okay with this. It fits, his old home sucking him down into obliteration. At least he's struck back at it. At least he's meeting all the people he's buried there, and has won them their revenge. The only thing he really regrets is Rude. Sucks to go out with the guy pissed at him.

  
He must have gone under before he hit the ground. He didn't remember hitting, but the grating sensation in his ribs tells him he must have. He doesn't remember being buried, but the only difference between his eyes open, and his eyes closed are tiny pricks of light through the rubble, and the dust that falls into them. He can't move anything, raw edges pressing in inexorably from every angle. He wonders distantly if this is what it's like to be a star. A single burning body, alone, slowly being crushed by the darkness, and surrounded by cold, apathetic little lights too distant to mean anything, but still...it is pretty. And gods, does everything burn. And he can hear scratching somewhere above him. It sounds like rats.

  
He must have been chased in and out of consciousness a dozen times, pursued by the scratching. He knew it was rats. Big rats. It was the only thought he could hold. Sometimes he thought he must be being eaten, everything was such white pain. When he was awake, he tried to call out. He knew if there were any AVALANCHE survivors, and they found him, he was dead, but he didn't care. He'd take anything, anything over being trapped with the rats. Anything for a second of air, and light.

  
***

  
Knowing that he could see literally nothing useful from the helicopter doesn't stop Rude leaning half out of it through the whole descent, wordlessly scanning the rubble for some kind of sign. Tseng was pretty sure he'd been able to remotely activate the emergency GPS in Reno's ID chip, but they are too far off to get a signal, now that there was nothing to transmit it in this sector. Tseng sits rigid and tight lipped at the controls, bringing them down just a breath faster than was specified in pilot certifications. A less seasoned Turk might not have noticed the tension in his jaw, or the way his eyes kept darting from the readings necessary for flight, to the GPS in the seat beside him. Tseng's voice, when he announces “I hope you know that this will not look good on Reno's performance review. The Turks' second in command should be able to handle a simple explosive and a handful of terrorist amateurs. You may want to prepare for an investigation” is perfectly composed and disinterested.  
“You knew this was personal when you assigned him.” Rude grunted.

  
“Yes, but I trusted to his professionalism.” Tsengs shoulders were squared wide, and straight. “I admit that I misjudged.”

  
Rude hadn't lied. Theirs wasn't the only helicopter in the area. The blue uniforms in parachutes already filled the sky, weighted with medical kits, and excavation tools. The PR would be phenomenal. There is a SOLDIER medic in the chopper next to Rude. Her only briefing had been that a member of the Turks had been dispatched to try to stop AVALANCHE, and was now missing. She sits with her field kit neatly in her lap, her compact form literally vibrating with excitement and pride. It wasn't every day that a rank-and-file was assigned such an important task. Rude knows her enthusiasm is a good thing, and betrays only her loyalty to Shinra. But right now he hates her, almost as much as he hates his partner. Almost as much as he wants Tseng to find the emergency signal. The is no detectible emotion in their leaders voice when he informs them “I have vitals and approximate location.” The medic all but bounces up into the cockpit.

  
“Fill me in!”

  
“Pulse 120, respiration 30. Both shallow.”

  
“Sure sounds like shock so far. How far are we?”

  
“Far enough. There's nowhere to land nearby.” It is another ten minutes before they are on the ground, and another 20 of climbing and crawling over the broken remnants of the plate, and the screams of the grieving and dieing before Tseng stops so suddenly the medic nearly runs into him. “Here.”

  
“Here?”

  
“He's right bellow us.” Tseng neatly switches off, and pockets the tracker, crouching and gabbing on to a slab of concrete about half his own size. “Rude. Help me with this.”

  
“Sir!” chirps the medic. “All due respect sir, we should wait for an excavation team. If we move something wrong-”

  
“He's near the surface. He's also claustrophobic. If he's conscious, he'll be better off out as soon as possible.” Between the three of them, they get the slab hauled up, and dropped over. There's about a foot of space, and, uncovered, a pale hand and forearm in a blue suit. Rude reaches out instinctively, but the medic is there first.

  
“Pulse still there. Still rapid and week though. He's clammy. You're right sir, we need to get him out.” At the sound of her voice the hand spasms, grasping for her's and a low, injured animal noise is muffled by the remaining debris. Her face is absolutely alight and focused. “Yes!” She grips Reno's hand in both of hers. “Yes, can you hear me? Hold tight, we're getting you out.” She nods to her superiors. While they dig, she stays there, talking an endless string of medical jargon, in a soothing tone. No one else understands it, but Rude figures they aren't meant to. And he isn't...jealous, of her place, trying to comfort. But something close. Possessive, maybe. And still very, very afraid. When the injured Turk is finally unearthed all Rude can think is thank the fucking gods for mako enhancements, because if he'd been normal, Reno would have been very, very dead. The right half of his body is peppered with bullet holes and grazes. There is a new scarlet line on his cheek, and the upper part of his right ear is just, gone. Probably had met with a machine gun. He'd landed on a piece of rebar, on the same side. If they were lucky, it had found a space between his ribs, and had only ruptured organs, and not lodged in bone. His left leg is definitely broken in two places. Most worrying though, is his right arm, which is caught under a boulder-like chunk of debris that they cannot free, and the blood running from the back of his head, which could mean a scratched scalp as easily as it could mean a traumatic brain injury. Bruises and other abrasions aren't currently worth accounting for.

  
For better or worse, Reno is conscious. Or something like it. His open eyes are bright and delirious, darting from face to face to sky, pupils all but shutting out the blue. He can respond to them, and he knew they were there. But it is clear that he doesn't know anymore where he is, or what is happening to him, or why. Half of what he says is nonsense, and all of it is slurred. Rude has been able to take up the medic's previous position, out of the way by his partner's head, one hand gripping Reno's free arm, the other cupping the side of his face, trying to keep him present. The medic has stopped the bleeding with cures, and sets his leg in a splint. Even in his incapacitated state, Reno has been able to mostly keep quiet.

  
“Okay, I've done what I can do here. He needs a surgeon. We can remove the bar and re-attach the arm when we get back.” Tseng's eyebrows shot up.  
“Re-attach?”

  
“Yes. There's no way we'll be able to free it as is. We'll have to cut it off, and bring him back in two pieces. We do it all the time in SOLDIER. First things first though.” She produced a saw from her bag, and set about finding the appropriate teeth for it. “We'll cut through the rebar so we can move him immediately. Here, once he's up a little, you hold him, okay?” Tseng swallows almost invisibly, and nods in compliance. She looks pointedly at Rude, who has replaced his shades, and schools his face into absolute blankness at her verdict. “You keep him still as you can, alright.” Carefully, but quickly, she works her arms under Reno's torso, and nods to Tseng. “Okay buddy.” She has the same, practiced, soothing tone in her voice. “This is going to suck.” And she yanks him up, just a little over three inches, simultaneously muttering a cure to seal the new torn flesh. Still, Rude hunches with nausea at the wet, ripping sound. To Reno's unending credit, he only gasps and digs his fingers into Rude's arm. It takes only about ten seconds to cut through, metal shrieking against metal. Reno, clearly confused and frightened and in pain, keeps trying to lock gazes with either Rude or Tseng. But it won't help him any to see their apprehension. “Okay. Almost there.” Rude can't think of anything to say while Tseng does his best to cut away the right sleeve of Reno's suit and dress shirt, and the medic prepares a tourniquet, and changes the teeth on her saw. Instead, he pets awkwardly at Reno's hair and cheek, hoping that it will help somehow, but the touch seems to only communicate his worry.

  
“Rude?” his eyes widen and breath shortens. “Rude, what's happening, man?”

  
“Nothing's happening Reno. You'll be home soon.” He hopes that his shades hide the fact that he is looking away. To the side, the saw roars to life, teeth flashing bright white in the sun.

  
“Hold him down, both of you.” Tseng leans forward, putting all of his weight on Reno's bicep. Rude lets go of Reno's hand, to hold him down by the shoulders. Reno looks into their faces and starts shaking. “Okay, this could take a few minutes.” The white teeth bite into white flesh just bellow the elbow. There are arteries there, and in spite of the tourniquet, in a second everything is red. At first, Reno silently bites the inside of his cheek, as if he expects the pain to be gone in a moment. But it isn't. With his hand on the Turks twitching shoulders, Rude can't stop him from looking over to see what is hurting. He makes a horrible choking sound as he looks back and forth desperately between the puckered flesh and the faces of his associates. Then, the saw hits the first nerve. _There are three nerves in the lower human arm_ Rude thinks, as Reno thrashes futilely against them, screaming as loudly as his broken voice allows.

  
“It hurts! It hurts ithurtsithurts!” _The radial_. The saw has begun chunking into bone, so they're through the first one now. “Rude! Helpmepleasehelp”.

  
“I am helping you. Just a little longer.”

  
“Nononoplease” _The interousseous._

  
“Can't we knock him out!?”

  
“With that head injury? No way.” Huge helpless tears draw tracks in the blood and dust on Reno's face. They're through the second now, based on his pallor. It's almost over. _And the ulnar._

  
“Why do you hate me!?”

  
“I don't Reno. I swear to the gods I don't hate you.”

  
“Done!” barked the medic, switching off the saw and packing up brusquely. Rude isn't sure when she got the lower part of the forearm free, or packed in a cooling pack, but she had. “Let's get him out of here now.” She casts another high-level cure to stem the bleeding, and starts running the severed limb back towards the chopper. Without a thought, Rude scoops his partner up bridal style and takes off running too. Reno is curled into him like a child, breath ragged and tears soaking through his jacket and shirt. He tries to wrap his arm around Rude's neck, but it doesn't reach anymore.

  
***

  
After surgery, Reno is almost as pale as the sheets that cover him. It makes the red of his hair, and the angry line where his arm has been sutured back on, almost vulgar. The doctors assure him that his partner will be just fine. He needs a few days to make sure his body is accepting the new blood, and to allow his more superficial wounds to heal entirely. He will need a few weeks of physical therapy to regain full use of the limb. But with his mako enhanced system, and the excellent magic and technology at the disposal of Shinra, he'll be good as new. The medic had done an admirable job, they said. They can even regrow the ear. It's hard to believe, but Rude supposes he's seen others come in worse off. Rude is sitting on an uncomfortable chair by the hospital bed, starring blankly at the bright monitors and not really thinking about anything, when Tseng comes in. He doesn't realize anyone else is there, until a warm, solid hand rests on his shoulder.

  
“I got the doctor's report...”

  
“Why did you send him alone?” Rude snaps, knowing this is insubordinate, but not fully caring. Tseng sighs, and sounds hurt, not exasperated.

  
“I thought he could handle it. He usually compartmentalizes so well.”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Do you...need some time off?”

  
“Just today. Sir.”

  
“Alright. I expect you to back in the office by four tomorrow. I expect a report.” Tseng squeezes his shoulder, reassurance warming the grip. Moments pass, and neither says anything else. Eventually, Tseng lets him go, and his exit is marked by the hydraulic click if the automatic doors. Rude takes Reno's right hand in both of his, and while his heart beat is still slightly irregular, and his breathing still not deep enough, at least he's still warm, alive. Rude briefly considers climbing into the cot with him, to soak up as much of that reassuring warmth as he can. He doesn't though. He figures Reno needs it more than he does. Anyway if Reno were to wake up and find himself being publicly cuddled he'd be furious. So he just holds onto his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I am really struggling with formatting dialogue in A03. I'm really sorry. Hopefully I'll figure out how to make it more readable soon.


End file.
